CHAPTER V
A New Member of the Family
"Has you-all done 'cided to do wid out yo' suppers dis yer night?'Cause if you _is_ I 'spec's I kin clar away," was the autocraticinquiry of Mammy Melviny as she stood in the doorway of theliving-room, her ample proportions very nearly filling it.
Hadyn Stuyvesant's call had been of longer duration than Mammyapproved, for her hot corn cakes were being rapidly ruined by thedelayed meal, and this was an outrage upon her skill in cooking. Mammyhad been Mrs. Carruth's nurse "down souf" and still regarded thatdignified lady as her "chile," and subject to her dictation. She wasthe only servant which Mrs. Carruth now kept, the others having beenwhat Mammy stigmatized as "po' northern no 'count niggers" who gavethe minimum of work for the maximum of pay, and were prompt to taketheir departure when adversity overtook their employer.
Not so Mammy. When the crisis came Mrs. Carruth stated the case to herand advised her to seek another situation where she would receive thewages her ability commanded, and which Mrs. Carruth, in her reducedcircumstances, could no longer afford to pay her. The storm which thesuggestion produced was both alarming and amusing. Placing her armsupon her hips, and raising her head like a war-horse scenting battle,Mammy stamped her foot and cried:
"Step down an' out? Get out 'en de fambly? Go wo'k fer some o' desehyer strange folks what aint keer a cent fo' me, an' aint know who I_is_? _Me?_ a Blairsdale! Huh! What sort o' fool talk is _dat_, Baby?Yo' cyant _git_ me out. Yo' need 'n ter try, kase 'taint gwine be nogood ter. I's hyer and hyer I's gwine _stay_, no matter _what_ come.'Taint no use fer ter talk ter _me_ 'bout money and wages an' sichtruck. What I kerrin' fer dem? I'se got 'nough, an' ter spare. Whatyo' t'ink I'se been doin' all dese years o' freedom? Flingin' myearnin's 'way? Huh! You _know_ I aint done no sich foolishness. I'segot a pile--yis, an' a _good_ pile too,--put 'way. I need n't ter everdo a stroke mo' work long 's I live if I don't wantter. I'se _rich_, Iis. But I _gwine_ ter work jist 's long's I'se mind ter. Ain't I free?Who gwine ter say I cyant wo'k? Now go long an' tend ter yo' businessand lemme lone ter tend ter mine, and dat's right down wid de pots andde kettles, and de stew pans, an' de wash biler and de wash tubs, an'I reckon I kin do more 'n six o' dese yer Norf niggers put togedderwhen I set out ter good an' hard if I _is_ most sixty years old. Hushyo' talk chile, an' don't let me ketch you a interferin' wid _my_doin's agin. You heah _me_?" And at the end of this tirade, Mammyturned sharply about and marched off like a grenadier. Mrs. Carruthwas deeply touched by the old woman's loyalty, but knowing theantebellum negro as she did, she realized how wounded Mammy had beenby the suggestion that she seek a more lucrative situation amongstrangers. Mammy had been born and raised a slave on Mrs. Carruth'sfather's plantation in North Carolina, and would always considerherself a member of Mrs. Carruth's family. Alas for the days of suchties and such devotion!
So Mammy was now the autocrat of the household and ruled with an ironhand, although woe to anyone who dared to overstep the bounds _she_had established as her "Miss Jinny's" rights, or the "chillen's"privileges as "old marster's gran'-chillern." "Old Marster" wasMammy's ideal of what a gentleman should be, and "de days befo' degre't turmoil" were the only days "fitten for _folks_ (always to bewritten in italics) to live in."
She was an interesting figure as she stood in the doorway, and snappedout her question, although her old face, surmounted by its gaybandanna turban was the personification of kindliness, and her keeneyes held only love for her "white folks."
She was decidedly corpulent and her light print gown and beautifullyironed white apron stood out from her figure until they completelyfilled the doorway.
Mrs. Carruth turned toward her and asked with a quizzical smile;
"What is spoiling, Mammy?"
"Huh! Ain't nuffin spilin's I knows on, but dat Miss Nornie done sayshe ain't had no co'n cakes 'n 'bout 'n age an' if she _want_ 'em soturrible she'd better come and _eat_ 'em,"--and with a decisive nodMammy stalked off toward the dining-room.
"Come, girls, unless you want to evoke the displeasure of thepresiding genius of the household," said Mrs. Carruth smiling, as sheled the way in Mammy's wake.
It was a pleasant meal, for Mammy would not countenance the leastlapse from the customs of earlier days, and the same pains were takenfor the simple meals now served as had been taken with the moreelaborate ones during Mr. Carruth's lifetime. The linen must be ironedwith the same care; the silver must shine as brightly, and the glasssparkle as it had always done. Miss Jinny must not miss any of theluxuries to which she had been born if Mammy could help it.
"Isn't he splendid, mother?" asked Jean, as she buttered her thirdcorn cake. "He was _so_ good to Baltie and to me."
"I am very glad to know him, dear, for Lyman was much attached tohim."
"Where has he been all these years, mother, that we have never met himin Riveredge?" asked Eleanor.
"He has lived abroad when not at college. He took his degree lastspring. His mother died there a little more than a year ago, Iunderstand. She never recovered from the blow of his father's deathwhen Hadyn was about fifteen years of age. She went abroad soon afterfor her health and never came back. He came over for his collegecourse at Princeton, but always rejoined her during his holidays."
"How old a man is he, mother? He seems both young and old," saidConstance.
"I am not sure, but think he must be about Lyman's age--nearlytwenty-four. But the Society seems to have made a wise choice inelecting him its president; he has certainly taken energetic measuresin this case and I am glad that he has, for it is disgraceful to havesuch a thing occur in Riveredge. Poor old horse! It would have beenmore merciful to shoot him. How could Jabe Raulsbury have been soutterly heartless?"
"But, mother, suppose no one will take old Baltie and give him ahome?" persisted Jean, "will he _have_ to be shot then?"
"Would it not be kinder to end such a hapless existence than to leaveit to an uncertain fate, dear?" asked Mrs. Carruth gently.
"Well, maybe, but _I_ don't want him killed. He _loves_ me," wasJean's answer and the little upraising of the head at the conclusionof the remark conveyed more to Constance than to the others. Constanceunderstood Jean better than any other member of the family, and duringthe summer just passed Jean had many times gone to the field in whichBaltie was pastured to carry some dainty to the poor old horse and herlove for him and compassion for his wretchedness were deep.
No more was said just then, but Constance knew that the subject hadnot passed from Jean's thoughts and one afternoon, exactly two weeksfrom that evening, this was verified.
Mrs. Carruth had gone to sit with a sick friend. Eleanor was in herroom lost to everything but a knotty problem for Monday's recitation,and Mammy was busily occupied with some dainty dish against her MissJinny's home-coming. Constance was laying the tea-table when thecrunch-crunch, crunch-crunch, upon the gravel of the driveway causedher to look up, there to behold Jean with old Baltie in tow.
"Merciful powers, what _has_ the child done now?" she exclaimed as shelet fall with a clatter the knife and fork she was about to place uponthe table and flew to the front door, crying as she hastily opened it:"Jean Carruth what in this world _have_ you been doing?"
"I've brought him home. I _had_ to. I went down to ask Mr. Pringle ifanybody had come to take him, but he wasn't there. There wasn't_any_body there but old deaf Mike who cleans the stable and I couldn'tmake _him_ understand a single thing I said. He just mumbled andwagged his head for all the world like that China mandarin in thelibrary, and didn't do a thing though I yelled at him as hard as Icould."
"But _how_ did you get Baltie and, greater marvel, _how_ did you bringhim all this way home?" persisted Constance, bound to get to thebottom of facts.
"I went into the box-stall--it's close to the door you know--and got himand led him here."
"But where was Mike, and what was he doing all that time to _let_ youdo such a thing?"
"O, he went poking off down the stable and didn't pay any attention tome.
It wouldn't have made any difference if he _had_; I had gone thereto rescue Baltie and save him from being shot, and I didn't mean tocome away without doing it. The two weeks were up to-day and he was_there_. If any one had been found to take him he _wouldn't_ have beenthere yet, would he? So _that_ settled it, and I wasn't going to takeany chances. If I'd let him stay one day longer they might have shothim. If I could have found Mr. Pringle I'd have told him, but Icouldn't, and I didn't dare to wait. I left my bank money, almost fivedollars, to pay for this week's board--Mr. Stuyvesant said it would beenough--and a little note to tell him it was for Baltie; I wrote it ona piece of paper in his office, and then I came home as fast as Baltiecould walk, and here we are."
Jean had talked very rapidly and Constance was too dumfounded for thetime being, to interrupt the flow of words. Presently however, sherecovered her speech and, resting one hand on Baltie's withers and theother on Jean's shoulder, asked resignedly:
"And now that you've got him, may I ask what in this world you proposeto _do_ with him?"
"Take him out to the stable of course and take care of him as long ashe lives," was the uncontrovertible reply.
"Mother will _never_ let you do such a thing, Jean, and he must betaken back to Pringle's at once," said Constance, with more emphasisthan usually entered her speech toward this mad-cap little sister.
"I won't! I won't! I _won't_ let him go back!" broke out Jean, a stormof sobs ending the protest and bringing Mammy upon the scene hot-foot,for Mammy's ears were keen for notes of woe from her baby.
"What's de matter, honey? What done happen ter yo'?" she cried as shecame hurrying across the little porch upon which the dining-roomopened. "Bress Gawd what yo' got dere, chile? Huccum dat old horsehere?"
"Oh Mammy, Mammy, its Baltie, and she says I can't keep him, and theyare going to _kill_ him, 'cause he's old and blind and hasn't anyoneto take care of him. And Mammy, Mammy, _please_ don't let 'em 'cause I_love_ him. I do, I do, Mammy," cried Jean as she cast Baltie's leaderfrom her and rushed to Mammy, to fling herself into those protectingarms and sob out her woes.
"Wha', wha', wha', yo' say, Baby?" stammered Mammy, whose tonguesometimes became unruly under great excitement. "Somebody gwine tekaway dat old horse dat yo' love, an' breck yo' heart? Huh! Who gwinedo dat when Mammy stan' by? I like 'er _see_ 'em do it! _Co'se_ Iknows Baltie. Ain' I seen him dese many years? An' yo' gwine pertec'him an' keer fer him in his discrepancy? Well, ef yo' wantter yo'_shall_, an' dat's all 'bout it."
"But Mammy, Mammy, she can't; she mustn't; what will mother say?"remonstrated Constance smiling in spite of herself at the ridiculoussituation for Mammy had promptly put on her war-paint, and was aformidable champion to overcome.
"An' what yo' _ma_ gotter say 'bout it if _I_ sets out ter tak' careof an' old horse? 'Taint _her_ horse. _She_ aint got nothin' 'tall ter_do wid_ him. He's been a lookin', an' a waitin'; and de Lawd knowsbut he's been _a-prayin'_ fer a pertecter----how _we-all_ gwine know heaint _prayed_ ter de Lawd fer ter raise one up fer him in his mis'ry?An' now he's _got_ one an' it's _me_ an' dis chile. Go 'long an' setyo' table an' let us 'lone. Come on honey; we'll take old Baltie outyonder ter de stable an' bed him _down_ an' feed him _up_ twell he sosot up he like 'nough bus' wid pride, an' I just like ter see whogwine _stop_ us. Hi yah-yah, yah," and Mammy's wrath ended in amelodious laugh as she caught hold of the leader and stalked off withthis extraordinary addition to her already manifold duties, Jeanholding her free hand and nodding exultingly over her shoulder atConstance who had collapsed upon the lower step.